The Reawakening Of "Sleepy Eyes Of Death"

Years ago, I remember buying my first film on VHS from Animeigo/Samurai Cinema-I believe it was Mifune’s “Samurai Banners”. After the film finished, there were three previews for other samurai-related films released by Animeigo. These were three of the most outrageous and violent films that my burgeoning interest in jidaigeki had seen-the first was a “Lone Wolf And Cub” film and the second featured what’s still one of my favorite action sequences from the “Hanzo The Razor” series (where assassins break into Hanzo’s booby-trapped house while he’s lounging in his bathtub with a Buddhist nun). The third showcased a badass samurai who effortlessly dispatched a dozen ninja or so before polishing off their leader with something he called the “Full Moon Cut”. I have a feeling this set of three previews (which ran with almost all of Animeigo’s releases) achieved a certain status of their own with fans of the genre, and in my case told me that Samurai Cinema was run by my kind of people. I was more than a little disappointed when I found out that only the Lone Wolf films were still available and the other two were nigh on impossible to find and outrageously pricy when you did. Still, I managed to put together the Hanzo trilogy with two VHS’s and a Laser Disc, but the other series-“Sleepy Eyes of Death”-proved to be much harder. It took years to find five of the six releases on original VHS, and I never did run across a copy of the sixth. Thankfully, Animeigo reacquired the license and has re-released the first four films in the “Sleepy Eyes of Death/Nemuri Kyoshiro” series in a well done DVD boxed set.

“Sleepy Eyes” star Ishikawa Raizo packed a lot of films into a relatively short career before his untimely death at the age of 37, and most fans of jidaigeki agree that his signature character was Nemuri Kyoshiro, “Son of the Black Mass”-the bitter half-breed ronin and master of the Full Moon Cut. Based on a series of novels by Shibata Renzaburo, the series was to span 14 films (the last two featuring a new actor who took over after Ishikawa’s death) and became increasingly bizarre, bloody, and violent as it went.

The four discs in the set (originally released in 1963 and 1964) are as follows:

“The Chinese Jade”-the first entry in the series is based on actual history involving an infamous merchant/smuggler in the Maeda domain of Kaga, one Zeniya Gohei. Here, Zeniya has been executed by Lord Maeda in order to cover up the clan's involvement in a profitable smuggling ring-and to confiscate Zeniya’s gold in the process. However, as luck would have it, Zeniya’s not quite dead yet-and both he and Maeda vie to recruit master swordsman Nemuri Kyoshiro. Up for grabs is the Chinese Jade, a statue hidden by Zeniya that contains a document that would spell doom for the Maeda clan were it to find its way into the hands of the Shogunate. Very little of Kyoshiro’s background is examined here, aside from a short segment involving his training. It seems the film is trying to set Kyoshiro up as an avenger of the common man and a noble ronin, complete with a support group of thieves, yakuza, and his sensei (all of whom were dropped after this film). Cast notables include Wakiyama Tomisaburo as Zeniya’s monkish enforcer, Chen Sun, and Date Saburo (who appears in three of the four of the films in the set as different characters) as Zeniya. While the film features excellent swordplay, plenty of dying ninja, gorgeous gals, an involving story, and Raizo’s cool yet intense performance, it has been criticized for humanizing the ‘nihilistic’ Kyoshiro too much, particularly the ending. We disagree-having always seen Kyoshiro as an idealist at heart, and like most idealists he becomes increasingly bitter, skeptical, and resentful as the majority of the people he runs across fall short of his expectations. It’s interesting to follow the progress of this characterization through the series as Kyoshiro becomes more and more hardened, raping innocents, and eventually killing people with no provocation-even unarmed women. Through it all, the spark of idealism still remains-there are moments in most of his films where a good and decent person will bring a moment of joy to him, or give him a reason to fight for them. This inner conflict gives expression to some of the cooler lines uttered in jidaigeki flicks, including my personal favorite from part nine: “The last person he saw in this world was me. What an unlucky man he was”.

“Sword of Adventure” introduces a theme that will run throughout much of the series-the spoiled bastard children of Shogun Ienari. The plot involves the efforts of the Shogunate’s elderly finance minister, Asahina Iori, to reform the currency system and put a stop to the elaborate expenditures of the Shogun’s court (this, too, is based on actual history). Naturally, he falls afoul of the corrupt ministers who have been profiting all along-but his biggest enemy turns out to be Princess Taka, whose huge annual stipend has been cut through Asahina’s action. Kyoshiro takes a liking to the old man and becomes his defacto bodyguard. Before the final resolution there are deceitful women, poison, ambushes, a rigged duel with a foe who might be Kyoshiro’s superior, and five master swordsmen he must overcome. We actually found old man Iori to be much more entertaining to watch than Kyoshiro, and the developing friendship between the two engaging.

“Full Circle Killing” introduces another of Ienari’s bastards, Katagiri Takayuki, whose supporters and mother have been killing off the Shogun’s legitimate heirs in order to leave him in position to inherit the Shogunate. Katagiri is a violent psycho who has been installed with a twisted version of Bushido by his mother-he enjoys testing out his collection of rare swords by killing peasants in a slum on the outskirts of Edo. Kyoshiro becomes involved when he wanders by the scene of one of the slayings, and further drawn in when Katagiri covets his exquisite Musou Masamune blade. Between protecting the villagers, keeping them from implementing their own ineffectual plans for revenge, and retaining the Musou Masamune, Kyoshiro has his hands full. An interesting moment here is when Kyoshiro explains the style of the Full Moon Cut, ending with the familiar boast that “…no opponent has ever lived to see the circle completed”.

The last film in the set, "Sword of Seduction", takes the series to new extremes-both storywise and in a visual sense. Kyoshiro is approached by a Christian on the run and beseeched to guard their saint, "The Virgin Shima" (who may or may not have familial ties to Kyoshiro). While Kyoshiro refuses, he goes to the man's aid after he is captured and being prepared for crucifixion. The Christian's sister has won his freedom (by 'converting' a Western missionary to Buddhism by seducing him), but not only has the Shogunate not honored their promise to free him but the depraved and disfigured Princess Kiku (another of Shogun Ienari's bastards) has arranged for her to be gang raped in front of her brother at the execution grounds. While Kyoshiro is unable to save the two, he manages to disrupt Kiku's 'entertainment' and send her scurrying back to Edo castle. Kyoshiro sets out to find the Virgin Shima, and while on the road faces an incredible series of ambushes, seductions, ninja assaults, and betrayals. Some of the most impressive set pieces to be found in the series are on display, and after further humiliating Princess Kiku (destroying her without killing her), Kyoshiro finds the Virgin Shima and confronts the group of opium smugglers that have been working with Kiku-including his monkish nemesis from part one, Chen Sun. After this final battle, Kyoshiro learns the truth behind the circumstances of his birth-a revelation that was to have a major influence on the further films in the series. This film not only has a glorious progression of well thought out action scenes, but also some of the more impressive "WTF?" moments in the Nemuri saga. One of these would be Chen Sun breaking off the ending battle to jump overboard for no reason in particular. Perhaps the most impressive one, however, occurs when the Western missionary has been released from prison after having been 'converted' to Buddhism. Kyoshiro comes galloping into the frame astride a horse and brandishing a sword, screams out "Go to Hell!", and sends the fallen Christian's head rolling (many critics seem to think that this was Kyoshiro's father-however, the evidence within the film points to this not being the case, not to mention the two are played by different actors). Perhaps the most impressive innovation is how the "Full Moon Cut" is now filmed in time lapse photography-adding a new dimension to its alleged hypnotic effect and giving it a supernatural feel. This film is a turning point in the series-it is from here that Kyoshiro's dark side really begins to take hold, and the succeeding films were to become increasingly violent and twisted. While Kyoshiro claims in the final Raizo installment (part 12, Castle Menagerie) that he has never killed someone who has not attacked him first, he seems to conveniently forget his victims such as the aforementioned missionary and an unarmed nun he slaughters at the end of the film.

All four of the films in the set are winners, and get stronger with each installment. They all feature the excellent set design and costuming that one sees in virtually every jidaigeki film of the 60's, along with solid cinematography and soundtracks. The casts are loaded with chambara veterans from Daei studios and packed with starlets to boot. Having all four in the same package makes for interesting viewing as one follows the progression of Kyoshiro's character-from a rather normal 'justice seeking noble ronin' in part one to the heartless killer of part four. It's rare to see a chambara hero that goes from shouting at the heavens over the loss of the one precious thing in life (when Chisa is killed at the end of part one) to proclaiming that women are nothing more than sex objects. Likewise, he has little sense of duty or obligation-rare in a genre where the conflict of duty versus self comprise the engine that runs many plots. Unarmed missionaries and nuns fall to his blade and innocent women are raped by him. Kyoshiro was the forebearer of the even more extreme antiheroes of the 70's in the "Lone Wolf" and "Hanzo the Razor" films.

Animeigo's packaging for the box set is striking with a black and white image of Kyoshiro in the middle of performing the Full Moon Cut set against a blood red background. The four discs are arranged in a gatefold sleeve decorated with images from the series with a booklet taking up one section of the sleeve. As for the DVD’s, the color and picture quality are sharp and the soundtracks have no audible hissing or popping. Subtitling is excellent and the translation is good-although one of my favorite lines, the infamous “I love you, man!” from part III was changed for the current release.

Each disc contains various extras that not only feature production stills, trailers, and cast/crew bios but also help explain the intricacies of Japanese culture and history as portrayed in the films. There’s much less history to be explained in the Sleepy Eyes series than in, say, the Shinobi No Mono films, so the program notes focus on Japanese culture. The presentation is largely accurate with a few typos and minor errors (such as stating that Kawanakajima is located in Echigo province). Each one of the discs has an interactive map spotlighting the locations used or talked about in the film along with more historical notes. Ric Meyers provides a commentary on the first disc that covers the first four films as a whole and is joined by author/martial artist Jeff Rovin. Meyers was responsible for one of the worst film commentary tracks we’ve heard on Animeigo’s Shinobi No Mono 2 disc, but here (and also on the commentary he provided for the “Shogun Assassin” boxed set) he’s actually quite good. Sticking to movie trivia and cinema history, he provides quite a bit of useful information on the stars, the studios, and the film series as a whole. And even though he STILL mangles the Japanese language, he’s at least getting better in this regard too. Hey, he’s trying! There are color and b/w stills for each film in the series and cast/crew bios unique and specific for each (rather than just running Raizo’s bio for every one). Each disc has five trailers-usually for the current and next films in the Nemuri series, one for a Shinobi No Mono entry, and two other Animeigo releases that the director of the current film also helmed. One of the discs even shows a gallery of the packaging Animeigo used for their ‘Sleepy Eyes’ VHS and Laserdisc releases. There’s also a booklet included that gives a general outline of the series, some background on the Edo period, and a history of Christianity in Japan during this time. Finishing it out are a couple of reviews taken from Pat Galloway’s “Stray Dogs and Lone Wolves” along with some other cast and crew information including Raizo.

Whether you’re replacing those worn-out VHS copies or taking your first steps into the Nemuri Kyoshiro saga, this DVD set fits the bill perfectly. Hopefully Animeigo will be releasing the next four films (that have recently been remastered in Japan) at some point. No samurai film collection is complete without the “Sleepy Eyes” films, so get the set now-before it goes the way of those ninja in that long-ago trailer…

You can get the Sleepy Eyes of Death Vol. I Box Set (the first four films) directly from Animeigo here or from Amazon through the SA Store here.

Review: Khubilai Khan's Lost Fleet

Review of James P. Delgado's Khubilai Khan's Lost Fleet: In Search of a Legendary Armada



In the late 13th century, one of the largest empires the world has ever seen directed its not inconsiderable attention to the island nation of Japan. Twice, Khubilai sent ships from the mainland carrying his soldiers to the shores of Japan, and twice they failed to add Japan to the Khan's empire. These conflicts would be revived when Japan once again faced the possibility of foreign invasion: both in the waning years of the Tokugawa bakufu and in the latter campaigns of World War II.

So where is the evidence of these two massive fleets? Perhaps the most compelling evidence has come, not from the famous Hakata bay, but the island of Takashima. Marine archaeologist James Delgado attempts to shine some light onto the latest research being performed, while also taking readers through the backstory of the assault itself.

Delgado opens with perhaps the most common images of the Mongol Invasions in English: the kamikaze. He then explores the history of the Mongol empire, including the situation on the mainland in the latter half of the 13th century. For both invasions, he provides maps of the routes, indicating the various naval engagements. The tale Delgado weaves around these events is infused with an emotional characteristic not usually evident in a strictly historical monograph. This quality may be due to the book having evolved from his work for National Geographic's series The Sea Hunters.

This, however, is as much about the history as generating interest in the archaeology. Delgado's account of the progress of the underwater dig around Takashima, and his hopefulness for the future, are compelling.

Delgado's forte is maritime archaeology and history, and this shows. His coverage of Japan is perhaps less in depth than serious readers might want, but he makes up for this with a broad look at Asian history in general, connecting events on the mainland with the invasions. He shows how the initial assault, even though it was repulsed, would have disrupted trade between Japan and their allies in the Southern Song dynasty; this may have been one of Khubilai's goals for the invasion in the first place. Following the second invasion, Delgado briefly looks at the Yuan dynasty's other failed maritime ventures against Vietnam and Srivijaya, which truly marked the end of the Mongols' attempts to take over the Southern Song's position as a naval power in East Asia.

If there were any main criticism of the book, it is the lack of actual archaeological finds. While much talk is directed at the research and its importance, the fruits of most of the labor will need to be found elsewhere. He does point out the remains (including armor) of one of the Mongol soldiers, and describes the contents of the "tetsuhau", or Mongol ceramic bombs. A series of photographs in the center provide further teasing glimpses of what appears to be a treasure trove of historical evidence. Fortunately for the serious student, Delgado provides an extensive list of references, including web links to the reports and recent scholarship which may provide enlightening.

Delgado does a terrific job of exposing the organizations and individuals behind the research, such as KOSUWA, ARIUA, Mozai Torao, Hayashida Kenzo, and Randall James "Randy" Sasaki, whose work has helped and continues to help expose these ages old relics to modern scholarship. Delgado's own part in all of this also comes through, adding a personal quality to his descriptions of the site that could not be acquired merely by reading books.

All in all, this book is a wonderful look at the famous Mongolian fleets, providing an intriguing read for both the novice and experienced scholar. I would definitely recommend it to anyone interested in the Mongol invasions.

For this and other interesting titles, check out the Samurai-Archives Bookstore, hosted by Amazon.

State of War: The Violent Order of Fourteenth-Century Japan

This review should have been up about a month ago! Sorry folks! -JB



For anyone who has been reading the Samurai Archives forums for the past six months has likely seen or heard of Dr. Thomas Conlan. In recent years, this credited academic has brought his not inconsiderable talents to bear in the area of samurai and military history, a subject that is too often dismissed in serious academic circles.

My first introduction to Dr. Conlan's work came in the form of his monograph on the Mongol invasions, In Little Need of Divine Intervention, and taking his studies into the 14th century is a logical extension of that research. It is an area that is all too often overlooked, with most popular books focusing on either the Gempei Wars of the late 12th century or the exciting turbulence of the Sengoku period and the late 16th century; however, this leaves a large field between the two relatively untouched, except in the more scholarly journals.

Dr. Conlan's greatest asset is his ability to bring serious academic research and make it accessible to the armchair enthusiast. The well-organized and clear narrative is accompanied by stats and charts for those interested in a more detailed analysis. Furthermore, Dr. Conlan approaches the subject with a refreshing pragmatism, eschewing the popular mythology and legend that tends to cloud many popular works on the subject of pre-modern Japanese warriors.

The books starts off with a contemporary account of one of the warriors of the early 14th century, Nomoto Tomoyuki. Through records of the deeds performed by this warrior, written up as a petition for rewards by his son and preserved in the family records of the Kumagai down to the present day. This chapter uses Tomoyuki's escapades as a focus for a look at what it was like for warriors on the campaign. He draws particular attention to the bureaucracy involved; the need to have evidence in order to gain rewards for service in battle led the now well-documented instances of warriors who might show up for a battle and leave after taking only a single head, or even right after they were recorded as being in the camp!

This narrative, given at the ground level, as it were, is supplemented in the second chapter by a statistical analysis of 14th century warfare that provides a framework for describing the techniques and tactics employed by the armies of the time. Documentary evidence of wounds, usually recorded in the petitions, are drawn out in excruciating detail. In one appendix to the chapter (which is placed immediately following the chapter, vice at the end of the book), he provides numbers for all the documented deaths and wounds from 1333 to 1394, as well as listing the number of documents known to have been submitted in each year.

Other chapters detail the backbone of war, and how it was waged: supply lines, social and financial ramifications, religious influences, and legitimation. The make-up of the military, as well as how loyalties functioned within the first century of the Ashikaga shogunate, were quite interesting. He discusses the positions of retainers (wakatō) and the bakufu's housemen (gokennin), and their contributions to 14th century warfare. There is a lot of ground covered here, and I was really quite pleased with all of it.

However, buried within my praise, I must also acknowledge several things that let me down, especially in an otherwise enthralling work. First off, Dr. Conlan should have a word with his editor. There were many misspellings and grammatical mistakes that should never have made it to print (e.g. Nanbukucho v. Nanbokucho), especially in a book released by an academic institution focusing on Japanese studies. These are the sorts of things that are easy to miss when writing a book covering so much ground, but should also have been easy for a proofreader to pick up and mark for editing.

There were also some stylistic choices I can't say I agree with. References to figures are written as double references (e.g. "See figures 9 = pl. 7 and 10"), which were rather cryptic; the color plates didn't show up until near the end of the book, but before the final conclusion, their placement not making much sense. Dr. Conlan also appears to be overly enamored of the square bracket, leading to such sentences in his translation as: "[Nobutsune?] cut down one horseman wearing dyed and patterned [kōketsu] armor [hitatare]." This leads to confusion over whether a parenthetical is an assumed oversight in the original or if it is an explanation; e.g. if one does not already have a grasp of Japanese armor and clothing, one might assume that "hitatare" refers to a type of armor, rather than the original refering to a yoroi hitatare.

For someone who is interested in the precise terms, however, this flaw can often be a virtue. Many words that most modern authors would eschew from translating, or else provide only in the original Japanese, are given both in English and with a translation. Though at times tedious, unnecessarily breaking up the flow of the text, there are other times when it will be found a boon by the highly detail oriented amongst us.

It should be noted, that despite my objections, the style and grammar have little to do with the actual content, which is tremendous. The account, in the first chapter, of Nomoto Tomoyuki's service is an excellent exemplar of the type of service rendered by the average warrior during the 14th century. The statistics, gathered mostly in chapter two, contribute to the overall picture of violence in the 14th century. Further chapters elluminate such subjects as the role of violence in the social order. Dr. Conlan provides his audience with a compendium of modern scholarship on the issue. All of this helps to make this an eminently worthwhile book, and one that should be on the shelf of anyone seriously studying the history of warfare in Japan.

And for those looking for more, Dr. Conlan told SA during his interview that he was planning to expand the chapter on religion and war into his next monograph--so keep your eyes peeled.

For this, and other must-read books on Japanese history, check out the Samurai Archives Bookstore, hosted by Amazon.

Interview with Historian and Author Constantine Vaporis

On behalf of the Samurai Archives, I’m pleased to be interviewing author and historian Professor Constantine Vaporis. Professor Vaporis, who received a PhD from Princeton, currently teaches Japanese and East Asian History at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County (UMBC). A noted scholar, Professor Vaporis has been the recipient of research grants in the field of Japanese history from the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH), the Fulbright Program and the Japan Foundation. Professor Vaporis has authored two books on Edo period Japan—Breaking Barriers: Travel and the State in Early Modern Japan and Tour of Duty: Samurai, Military Service in Edo and the Culture of Early Modern Japan. Professor Vaporis is known to check out the action on the Samurai Archives Citadel of Japanese History from time to time and is also a valued member.

SA: Professor Vaporis, it’s a pleasure to have you here with us for this interview.

CV: Thank you. The pleasure is mine. As you noted, I have enjoyed being a member. I’ve benefitted personally from the Archives and so have many of my students.

SA: If you don’t mind, let’s start off with some basics. How did you become interested in Japanese history? What was the allure?

CV: I first fell I in love with Japan back in middle school when my father and I, along with my older brother, used to go to Japanese film festivals in Boston. I saw most of the classics of the 1960s this way. And, when an offer to learn Japanese came from one of my father’s students, who had been stationed in the military Japan in the mid-1950s, I jumped at it. So, to answer your question more directly, I first became enthralled with Japan and Japanese history as it appeared in celluloid and followed up that interest by studying the language. “Harakiri,” “Kiru,” “Ikiru,” and of course “Miyamoto Musashi” were some of my favorites—and now I teach a film course that uses a number of these.

SA: Your publications focus on the Edo period. What is it about the Edo period that fascinates you the most? Are there any other periods of Japanese history in which you have a special interest? Why?

CV: Let me answer these two together, as they are closely connected. When I headed to Princeton in 1980 to begin my graduate work, I intended to specialize in the late Warring States period and thought I might write a dissertation on one of the sengoku daimyo, like Takeda Shingen or even Oda Nobunaga. But, in Marius Jansen’s famous Friday morning seminar in Japanese history I read Englebert Kaempfer’s History of Japan and I was hooked on the Edo period. The vitality of the period, and as I later discovered, the richness of the historical record which remains for it, drew me in. Here I am, almost thirty years later still excited by teaching and researching the Edo period.

However, the last quarter of the 16th century in Japan still fascinates me. It was a dramatic, colorful period in Japanese history with personalities that were larger than life. It was also a time when European and Japanese history intersected—collided, really—, which added to the color and drama. By reading the letters the Jesuits sent home, particularly those of Alessandro Valignano, this all becomes clear.

SA: Which persona from Japanese history do you find the most interesting and why?

CV: Nobunaga would be one, again, because he was larger than life; his life was cut short, which makes one think about how the course of Japanese history might have been different had he lived long enough the complete his mission of unifying the realm.

Though not a Japanese, the life of Ganjin (Jianzhen) is fascinating to me. As you can see, I am drawn to travelers! Risking his life six times to make the sea-crossing to Japan in order to spread the dharma there, he finally made it in 753, by which time he had lost his sight. One can’t help but be awed by him and other travelers, both Japanese and Chinese, who braved the seas to travel to the other country on cultural and religious missions.

CV: Plenty of not-so-famous people fascinate me, too—like many of the diarists I encountered in researching Tour of Duty. Mori Masana of Tosa would be the best example. He strikes me as a bit of a maverick, something that was only possible for a younger son in a bushi family. He loved the physical as well as the intellectual and cultural. He was a prolific diarist, and his accounts are entertaining to read—not something one can say about most bushi diaries. He allows his personality to peer through his words. For example, wrestling sumo on the beach while the Tosa lord’s entourage waited for more favorable winds before setting sail, he injures his leg, but jokes in his journal about walking all the way to Edo on three legs. He spent much of his time in Edo studying as part of a number of cultural salons; he loved to shop and collected a large quantity of calligraphy and sword guards. On his first of many trips to Edo he did not have any official duties, but did something to attract the attention of officials close to the lord, and he was later rewarded for meritorious duty in protecting the lord as he was shuffled from place to place as a major fire spread across the city. He strikes me as a charismatic, energetic, intellectually curious man.

SA: Who are your favorite historians in the field of pre-modern Japanese history? Who had the biggest influence on you?

CV: Ron Toby and Martin Collcutt are two historians whose work I’ve always admired. Hal Bolitho has written some of the wittiest book reviews of academic works ever, and had a grand style in prose and speech both. Marius Jansen’s sweeping command of the field of Japanese history was awe-inspiring, as was his ability to synthesize scholarship.

SA: As an academic in the field, how do you feel about the current state of pre-modern Japanese studies?

CV: To be honest, I’m a bit troubled by what seems like an exodus of scholars from Tokugawa to Meiji history. In part I think this is market (read “job”) driven. There aren’t very many scholars left anymore who focus on the Edo period. But, perhaps that will change.

You were recently at a pre-modern Japanese history conference in Europe. Can you tell us a little about that?

CV: Yes, I was fortunate enough to be invited to a conference on Tokugawa history, organized by Professor Richard Bowring at Cambridge University in England this past March. I was asked to chair a panel on Ritual and Ritual Practice and to comment on the three papers the panelists presented. It was a wonderful opportunity to meet scholars of Tokugawa Japan from all over Europe, not to mention a handful each from the U.S. and Japan. This was the first such large conference—over thirty participants—on Tokugawa history in quite some time.

SA: On average, how many of your students per annum express an interest in pursuing a career related to Japanese history academia? What kind of advise do you give these students?

CV: Unfortunately my institution does not have a program in Asian studies, so we don’t develop students with the requisite language skills to do graduate work. I have had a handful of students who have transferred, though, in order to pursue further studies in Japanese history and culture. I tell any student who is interested in pursuing a higher degree in Japanese history to develop the best language skills they can as early as possible. I also urge them at a later date in their careers to learn to read brush-written documents; without that ability you are limited in your research to using materials that some other scholar or publisher thought important enough to make available in print.

SA: As an educator trying to impart your knowledge and passion about Japanese history on your students, what do you find most rewarding? What’s your biggest frustration?

CV: What I find the most rewarding and gratifying is when I discover that students are doing extra work (reading/research) on their own, beyond any class assignments, because they find the material we are studying so fascinating.

I think my job is easier now because of the popularity of anime. A lot of my students come to my classes interested in Japan—or what they think is Japan from anime—and want to learn more. In the early 1980s, the mini-series Shogun was big boost to the field, but now I would say it is anime. The first day of class this past semester I asked my students (in my “Japan in the Shogun Age” course) how many of them had heard about or seen “Samurai Champloo” and about 2/3 raised their hands! That surprised me.

Frustration? Not having a strong language program or area studies program at my university, which would support and complement what I do at the university.

SA: Let’s talk about your research and books. Both Breaking Barriers and Tour of Duty deal with traveling in the Edo period. What drew you to this specific topic?

CV: Kaempfer—reading his accounts of people encountered on the road as well as his lengthy description of a daimyo procession caught my attention my very first semester in graduate school. I wrote a paper on alternate attendance for that class, but ended up writing my first book on commoner travel and the development of a road network by the Tokugawa shogunate. In writing Tour of Duty I returned to what first caught my interest long ago. In a sense, these two works are book-ends: the first about the movement of commoners; the second, largely about the movement of bushi.

SA: I know that Americans have an affinity for road/travel tales as evident in classic pieces of literature written by such greats as Twain, Steinbeck and Kerouac, but so do the Japanese, who left an abundance of journals documenting their Edo period travels and experiences. Tell us what it was like reading these documents. Did it appeal to that “romance with the road” feeling that is hardwired into American DNA? [laughing]

CV: Well, it certainly appealed to the Greek-American DNA that courses through my own body. My grandfather was a big traveler—left his island of Kalymnos, near Turkey, for Argentina and then America. My father made his trans-Atlantic migration to the US at the age of three. We moved around quite a bit growing up, when my father was transferred from parish to parish (he was a Greek Orthodox priest). I’ve lived in a number of foreign countries and traveled to Japan 21 times, at last count. So reading other peoples’ accounts of traveling has always resonated with me.

Having trekked over some of the byways that travelers used during the Edo period—along the old Tōkaidō around Hakone and Hata, along a long stretch of the Kisokaidō, and along the Tosa routes to the north and to the east of Kōchi—it’s been easy trying to transport myself mentally back in time, to imagine what the experience must have been like. It is exciting to read a retainer’s account of his first trip outside his home domain, as he sees new things, experiences new customs and hears local stories.

SA: Documents from Tosa play a large role in Tour of Duty. What was a determining factor that locked you on to the impact the system of alternate attendance had on this han and retainers of the Yamauchi? Did this have anything to do with the influence of the late Professor Marius Jansen, who was an extensive scholar of Edo-era Tosa?

CV: What did it for me was the existence of a wide range of documents in Kōchi that would support the kind of social and cultural study that I wanted to write. Also integral was the openness and kindness of numerous people there who granted me unparalleled access to materials there. I write about this in my acknowledgements, but being allowed access to the family archive of one of the Counselors (karō) of Tosa domain before it opened to the general public and being allowed to work in the basement of the Yamauchi Shrine Archives, surrounded by the Edo-period documents and works of art stored there, are just two examples. The generosity of the people at the Prefectural Library and the friendliness of Kōchi people is something I will never forget.

SA: In your opinion, if you had to choose one overwhelmingly interesting inadvertent “byproduct” of the alternate attendance system, what would it be? How did it impact the development of Edo period society and culture?

CV: Just one?! Pressed to pick one, I would say that an important “byproduct” was the involvement of retainers in various cultural networks in Edo. Given that official duties were not onerous for most middle and lower-ranking retainers, there was plenty of time for them while in Edo to study with famous teachers and to cultivate skills (from the poetic, artistic to the martial) that would be of benefit back in the domain. The enforced period of residence in Edo in effect raised the cultural level of the country.

SA: A lot of your analysis delves into the explaining the symbols of power projection and some of the theatrical aspects that accompanied these displays during daimyo processions. In reality, how important were daimyo processions as a means of power projection once the daimyo left his own borders? Did they really mean something beyond projections of “face and prestige”?

CV: Interesting question. There were at least two audiences for daimyo processions: the first, as you point out, was the local, domestic audience, the people of the lord’s domain; the second was for a more general “public,” the people outside the domain, and helped to solidify a daimyo’s place in the political hierarchy of the realm. Very few people, relatively speaking, were able to witness a daimyo procession themselves, but word of mouth and graphic depictions of the processions played a role in establishing the reputation of a domain—i.e. whether its procession was still resplendent, or whether the lord was facing difficult times and had to cut back on the size of his procession. The reputation of a lord or domain was critical in the political world of the times.

But the processions had another, very different type of meaning, too. They were important to the local economies—the economies of the post stations and surrounding areas—in both a positive and a negative sense. The processions figuratively spread money along the highways, which benefitted local economies, but at the same time the corvee labor demands required of peasant-farmers who lived in surrounding areas to provide horses and labor power (a subject I write about in my first book, Breaking Barriers) had a negative impact on personal, household, and village economies.

SA: When I read Tour of Duty, I was somewhat surprised that there wasn’t much in it about samurai patronage of the pleasure quarters during their assignments in Edo. Are images of samurai from the outer han dallying in Akasaka, Asakusa and Yoshiwara a product of the imagination planted by exaggerated histories, books or movies?

CV: No, I don’t think so, but you do have to remember that diaries were meant to be read by others. The diary as a “private” piece of writing is a concept that would have seemed alien to people in the Tokugawa period. A bushi might keep a work diary so that his son could benefit from the father’s experience. Similarly a pilgrim to Ise or some other religious site might keep a record so that other family member’s might know what they could expect on a similar trip. Bushi were expected to act according to a strict moral code, so it is not surprising that they would not write about trips to the pleasure quarters in an explicit fashion. Some of my diarists write about going to the Yoshiwara to “sightsee” (kenbutsu). The term “flower viewing” (hanami) is sometimes used as a code-word for visiting the pleasure quarters, but I have not yet encountered a diarist who wrote explicitly about doing more than taking in the sights! Other types of evidence reveal that those bushi who could afford it did frequent the pleasure quarters. I do mention in the book one Yamauchi lord who seems to visit the pleasure quarters of Gion, in Kyoto; according to a non-official record, he traveled there “in disguise” for “flower viewing.”

SA: Tour of Duty is really a great book. I enjoyed it immensely. Do you have any other projects that you are working on that you can tell us about?

CV: Thank you very much.
Yes, I am working on a book tentatively entitled Japan as Samurai Nation. As this suggests, it is a study of the samurai as a trope or symbol for Japan, from the Edo period until today. It deals with both the historical reality of the samurai as well as the way that samurai have been perceived, historically, in both Japan and abroad. I’m particularly excited by this project, which will take me into contemporary times and treat issues of national identity.

SA: That certainly sounds like an interesting topic. I’m definitely looking forward to reading it as it sounds like you and I share some common interests! In terms of Japanese history, what have you recently been reading? Anything you can recommend?

CV: I’m currently reading, and enjoying, Richard Rubinger’s Popular Literacy in Early Modern Japan.

SA: How did you find the SA Archives and what drew you to its forum?

CV: I don’t recall how I first encountered it, to be honest. It was probably when I was first putting together a syllabus for a new course, “Constructing the Samurai,” and surfing the web to see what was out there. I’ve been impressed by the professional nature of the site, the wide coverage of subjects, the depth of the interviews with scholars and the considerable knowledge of the forum members. I’ve learned a lot from reading some of the threads. As you know, there are too many sites on samurai out there that have little substance; Samurai Archives is a welcome relief!

SA: Thank you for the positive feedback as it is much appreciated. However, is there anything you would like to see us try to do with the SA, in order to raise the level of our scholarship or improve the quality of historical discussions?

CV: There are probably copyright issues involved, but it would be nice to have full texts of the various daimyo house codes. Another idea might be to have a section devoted to primary source documentation. Again there might be copyright issues involved but in the case of documentation out there already on the web, you could have links to them. One example would be Charles Wigmore’s translations of the Laws for the Military Houses (Buke sho hatto). A bibliography on the samurai would be useful as well, not to mention a convenient list of good web sites related to the samurai.

SA: Thank you for the feedback. The rōjū will discuss your ideas with the Shogun. We do have some select bibliographies or resource lists in some of the individual forums, but they are in need of updating. And you are right about house codes and translation copyrights, but we will look into that.

Professor Vaporis, thank you very much for taking the time to sit down with us. This has been a real treat and a pleasure. We hope to have you back after your next book.

CV: Thank you for the opportunity.

Remember, both Tour of Duty and Breaking Barriers can be purchased from Amazon via the Samurai Archives Bookstore at http://astore.amazon.com/samurai-20?node=4&page=4

Book Review: Tour of Duty

I see a red door and I want it painted it black
No colors anymore and I want them to turn black…

I admit that this verse from The Rolling Stones’ famous song “Paint it Black”, came to mind when I saw the title of Professor Constantine Nomikos Vaporis’ book, Tour of Duty. I couldn’t help but to make a connection between the book title and the song, as it was the opening theme for an old American television show called “Tour of Duty”, about a group of U.S. soldiers tearing through the jungle on search and destroy missions during the Vietnam War. In Professor Vaporis’ book, you won’t find ‘Charlie’ or stories about jungle firefights, but you will find a fascinating book that delves into a completely different kind of tour of duty— samurai military service to their feudal lords during trips of alternate attendance to the Shogun’s capital of Edo.

A system of alternate attendance called sankin kōtai was the Shogunate’s fundamental means of control over the more than 240 or so feudal lords (daimyo) that ruled the patchwork of individual fiefs that comprised Tokugawa period Japan. In a basic definition, sankin kōtai forced daimyo to alternate attendance between their fief and Edo for periods of about a year on a biennial basis. While in Edo, the daimyo were expected to serve a variety of functions within the shogun’s court. Upon returning to his fief (han), the daimyo’s wife and children remained in Edo as permanent hostages—an insurance policy designed to make a daimyo think twice about participating in an act of rebellion against Tokugawa authority when back in his home domain. Also, the monetary funds needed to support these costly trips as well as maintain luxurious mansions and barracks within Edo, gradually diminished the ability of the daimyo to spend han wealth on military buildups that could threaten neighboring domains or the Shogunate itself.

In his introduction, Vaporis explains that sankin kōtai is perhaps the greatest achievement of the Tokugawa period’s leadership as the system intentionally or unintentionally encouraged the development of political, economic and social institutions and practices that helped keep the unprecedented 250 years of internal peace. Sankin kōtai also played a part in the development of the Edo period’s rich cultural heritage. Vaporis states that it is because of the blatantly obvious significance and impact of sankin kōtai, historians have only discussed it in very general terms that haven’t changed much over time. There is really no single book or volume on the subject that sums it all up. To try to write “that” book would require a massive scale of research that could not be so easily carried out, especially as there aren’t any existing full complements of primary resources in han histories that neatly explain and tie everything together. The sheer weight of the project would sink even the best researcher/historian’s ambitions. It is therefore quite easy to understand why historians discuss sankin kōtai in broad strokes or look at specific aspects of the system and the lives of those it affected. With Tour of Duty, Professor Vaporis doesn’t try to deliver a banal and sweeping treatise on the topic, nor does he zero in on a one dimensional, miniscule aspect of it either. What he has delivered is a rich, 24k creation that I truly admire. This is a very insightful and well-construed book that clearly highlights Professor Vaporis’ skills as a researcher and his ability to convey his findings in a straight-forward, easy to understand fashion.

After skillfully panning and sifting through various primary source material scattered throughout diaries, journals, artistic depictions and archeological sites to find valuable content, Vaporis then forged and polished what I would describe as a golden ingot that brilliantly shines some much needed light on how alternate attendance, as a political institution, touched the lives of the samurai who participated in it. Roughly, the first half of the book deals primarily with the preparations for the round trip journeys to and from Edo and life on the road, as part of a daimyo’s procession. Readers are treated to a wealth of valuable information ranging from summaries of contemporary journal accounts to tables filled with facts and figures that clearly illuminate just how important of a role alternate attendance played in the deployment of a domain’s human and financial resources. Also, the insightful analysis provided on the pomp and circumstance of daimyo processions is fascinating and definitely stands out as one of the highlights of this book. Vaporis describes these processions as “theatres of power” as they combined the intricacies of domain power projection with a certain amount of drama that both awed and entertained those who witnessed them.

The second half of the book covers nearly all aspects of samurai life while on duty in Edo, ranging from financial considerations, issues of place and space within the various types of daimyo compounds, and everyday things like diet and hobbies—including intellectual and cultural pursuits. All of this was really quite interesting and the tables provided of purchases made by individual samurai during their trips to Edo helps to put a human face on those who served in Edo so long ago. These weren’t just stoic samurai, but actual people with real consumer-driven wants and needs.

Often overlooked, is the role samurai played in what Vaporis coins, “carriers of culture”. He points out that many historians will talk about the uni-directional flow of culture into Edo and its refinement there, but he argues that the flow of culture was a two-way street. Samurai, when traveling back to their native domains, acted as carriers of culture that they came into contact with whether it be in Edo or via traveling through other domains. In essence, Vaporis says that the system of alternate attendance gave samurai the chance to “discover” the diversity of Japan and its culture that existed beyond the borders of one’s own domain. It’s hard not to agree with that.

Also, Vaporis does mention that samurai, while stationed in Edo, did not have unrestricted freedom of movement and did not just idle away free time drinking and visiting pleasure quarters. While I do understand the point that Professor Vaporis is trying to make about this, it is undeniable that Edo was a “man’s town”. The popular pursuit of carnal pleasures by both samurai and townsmen alike helped to consummate the marriage of the culture of the “floating world” with that of the wider Edo period that we recognize today. If there is one weak link in this book’s armor, I’d say that the lack of discussion about samurai patronage of Edo’s pleasure quarters is it. However, this is just a minor quibble that does not distract from the overall wealth of knowledge one can gain from this book.

I also think it is worthwhile to note that Tour of Duty is packed with black and white photos and illustrations that help the reader visualize the rich landscape that Vaporis paints, whether it be of daimyo processions, domain compounds, or photos of archeological excavations and artifacts.

In an upcoming interview with Professor Vaporis that will soon be published simultaneously on the Shogun-Ki blog as well as the Samurai Archives Citadel Forum of Japanese History, we will be going into more detail about his research, his book and perhaps his thoughts on samurai patronage of the pleasure quarters as a way of alleviating some of the tedium that accompanied tours of duty in Edo. Please be sure to be on the lookout for the interview.

In conclusion, I believe that Tour of Duty is an essential “must read” for anyone with an interest in the lives of the Japanese warrior class during the Tokugawa period as well as those who are fascinated by what it must have been like to travel on one of the five major roadways of the Edo period, such as the Tōkaidō. I’m finding it hard to find serious fault with this work. The topic is interesting. The writing style is clear and straightforward and engaging. The research is impeccable—one look at the extensive bibliography shows how deeply Professor Vaporis dove into researching this topic and the nearly fifty pages of detailed and informative endnotes are testament to this. I’m giving this book five out of five Smiling Sammies.

Tour of Duty can be purchased through Amazon.com via the Samurai Archives Bookstore. http://astore.amazon.com/samurai-20/detail/0824832051

Ninja Lurk In "Shinobi No Mono 4: Siege"

Animeigo continues its release of the 8 film Shinobi No Mono series with Shinobi No Mono 4: Siege (Japanese title Shinobi No Mono: Kirigakure Saizo). Released by Daiei in 1964, the movie stars fan favorite Ichikawa Raizo in one of his most popular series. This time around, instead of portraying ninja/thief Ishikawa Goemon (whose character is currently being featured in a big budget Japanese film, Goemon) he’s taking the field as an agent of the Sanada clan, Kirigakure (‘Mist’) Saizo. Different character or not, the ninja action lives on. Also along for the ride is Wakayama Tomisaburo of ‘Lone Wolf and Cub’ fame (here billed as Jo Kenzaburo) as clan leader Sanada Yukimura. This illustrates one of the more interesting features of the Shinobi No Mono series-the characters change, but the stars remain the same. Wakayama played sadistic warlord Oda Nobunaga (Goemon’s arch enemy) in the first two films, but here plays the man Raizo’s new character is protecting. You’ll see this pattern repeated throughout the cast-genre favorite Date Saburo, who played Hattori Hanzo in the Goemon part of the trilogy, appears here as a different character as do several other actors. Isomura Midori plays Saizo’s love interest in the film, Lady Akane-if you watched the first three films in the series, you’ll know This Will Not End Well.

The film begins with the Winter Siege of Osaka in 1614. The forces of the Shogunate under Tokugawa Ieyasu have been unable to penetrate the main compound of the Toyotomi’s Osaka castle thanks to the spirited defense being led by Sanada Yukimura. However, Ieyasu realizes that the direct approach is not always the most effective. He begins an artillery bombardment of the main keep meant to frighten Yodo (the mother of Toyotomi clan leader Hideyori) into pressing her son to sue for peace. In order to do this and to keep the pressure on the castle, Ieyasu sends forces to take the outlying defensive works. Yukimura’s son Daisuke finds his fort under assault in one of these raids, and is forced to abandon his position. Here’s where Saizo enters the fray, swinging into action on a rope and coming off a lot like Batman or Spider-Man. He’s ordered by Daisuke to rescue a group of women hiding in a nearby storehouse, but is unable to save them all from the Tokugawa forces (who seem more interested in taking the women as prizes than fighting). Meanwhile, Ieyasu’s plan has worked and an uneasy peace treaty is negotiated.

Saizo is ordered by Yukimura to travel to Edo and keep an eye on the movements and actions of Ieyasu and the Shogunate. He’s immediately spotted by Shogunate ninja and in the process of escaping them, comes across Lady Akane (one of the women he failed to save back in Osaka). She had been raped by several of Ieyasu’s men and in despair resigned herself to becoming a prostitute. She saves him from discovery by enemy ninja, after which she aids Saizo in his mission of gathering information. After many skirmishes with the Tokugawa ninja, the Sanada shinobi confirm that Ieyasu does indeed plan to launch another attack against the weakened Osaka castle (the moats have all been filled in as part of the peace treaty). Yukimura orders an assassination attempt on Ieyasu and departs for Osaka. The attempt fails and the Sanada ninja commits suicide before he can be captured. Saizo returns to Edo castle to give it another try, and is duped by Ieyasu and kills the wrong man. Saizo is captured and thrown into what amounts to a deep, dry well. Akane (who really gets put through the wringer in this movie) is also captured by the Shogunate and drugged. In her delirious state she gives up the location of Saizo’s confederates, who are also captured and killed. Saizo is kept alive, since Ieyasu hopes to extract Yukimura’s location from him. Saizo, however, ‘dies’ and is buried by the Shogunate. When Akane comes to pay her respects, he emerges from the grave (good thing he wasn't cremated)-it turns out he had fooled Ieyasu’s men by using a ninja technique that slowed his breathing and allowed him to appear deceased. Or were they fooled? It turns out he was allowed to escape, with Ieyasu’s ninja following him-straight to their target. Yukimura is killed by a Shogunate sharpshooter and the Tokugawa ninja return in triumph to Ieyasu.

But all is not as it seems. There’re plenty more twists and turns before the final battle of Toyotomi and Tokugawa in the Osaka Summer Campaign. Will Saizo manage to reverse the course of history and put himself on the winning side? Does he go down with the ship? Or will he listen to Akane, say ‘to hell with it all’, and save both her and himself?

The film is letterboxed and the transfer is great. The black and white photography lends itself well to the somber and depressing tone of the film. At times the viewer might think he’s stumbled into one of Toho’s Godzilla films-the music is by Ifukube Akira (noted for his scores on the Godzilla films), and there are sequences featuring realistic castle miniatures being blown apart by artillery fire. The effects range from excellent (the miniatures and explosions) to rather cheesy (such as several blatant dummies, and the flying ninja used in the title sequence). The genre pros of the cast deliver solid performances, with Raizo in particularly fine form as the alternately invincible and vulnerable Saizo. Unlike many films, the heavy (Ieyasu) is shown to outwit, outthink, and outperform the hero at every turn-even alone and unarmed, he’s able to escape assassination at Saizo’s hand. Saizo himself commits several huge blunders in the course of the film, making him fallible and keeping him from becoming the ‘all-powerful ninja’ stereotype. Not only does this give the film a realistic, unpredictable scenario and make Saizo a sympathetic character but also masterfully sets up the next few installments of the series. The film belies its modest budget, with a large cast, elaborate sets, and well choreographed battlefield scenes. Animeigo’s translation and subtitling is top notch, and further gives the viewer subtitle options ranging from none to notes to the full gamut-you even have a choice of subtitle colors.

Many chanbara films don’t require any historical knowledge to comprehend the goings-on, but Shinobi No Mono 4 will make a lot more sense and be more enjoyable for the viewer if they go in with some familiarity with the situation in Japan during 1615. As is usually the case, Animeigo’s extras for the disc have that aspect covered nicely. An interactive map of Japan shows the locations where all of the action takes place (and sometimes spots that are only mentioned) and gives background information for each. The historical notes for the program go into a huge amount of detail for a DVD, going so far as to reproduce the kanji written on the infamous bell that gave Ieyasu his excuse for attacking the Toyotomi. They’re very well done, and the occasional lapses are quite minor-falling into the ‘hair splitting’ category or simple typos (such as when the date for Aki province becoming part of Hiroshima prefecture is given as 1817 instead of 1871). The only glaring mistake is that the program states Kirigakure Saizo is an historical figure when it’s well established he was an invention of the Meiji era ‘Sanada Juyushi’ novels. Otherwise, the notes give you a good history lesson along with your ninja action. Other DVD extras include a still gallery (including some very interesting posed publicity shots) and the film’s original trailer. Also included is a trailer for the long awaited DVD release of another classic Ichikawa series-Nemuri Kyoshiro (released as ‘Sleepy Eyes of Death’ on US video). The first four Nemuri films will soon be released as a boxed set, and if they’re anything like the trailer, will look gorgeous. Time to replace those old VHS copies…

Whether you’re a Raizo fan, a ninja movie aficionado, a chanbara hound, or a history buff, Shinobi No Mono 4: Siege delivers the goods. The blend of ninja ‘skullduggery’ (as it’s called on the DVD box) with traditional samurai action gives the film an engaging blend of all-out action and stealth. While the DVD has an official street date of June 2nd, you can get it now directly from Animeigo or preorder it from Amazon through the Samurai Archives store here.